


Midnight Rendezvous

by midnightprelude, oftachancer



Series: 14 Days of DA Lovers [4]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 14 Days of Dragon Age Lovers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Underneath the Bough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightprelude/pseuds/midnightprelude, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftachancer/pseuds/oftachancer
Summary: The copse of trees near the stables, when the moon is at her apex,Dorian had murmured, his hand brushing over Anders’ shoulder at midday.Tonight.
Relationships: Anders/Dorian Pavus
Series: 14 Days of DA Lovers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149344
Kudos: 7





	Midnight Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> This is a future chapter for Underneath the Bough and as such has spoilers for that work! Also, NSFW, as it says on the tin. :)  
> For Scharoux's 14 days of DA lovers on Tumblr

##  Anders

The light of the full moon and the illuminated bulbs that decorated the grounds of the Pavus estate made his sojourn from the manor house towards the stables easier than Anders had expected given the hour. He rubbed the ever-present exhaustion from his eyes as his boots crunched softly against gravel, dirt, and grass, attempting to stick to the shadows until he was out of sight of the myriad windows looming over him from the walls of Dorian’s home.

_ The copse of trees near the stables, when the moon is at her apex, _ Dorian had murmured, his hand brushing over Anders’ shoulder at midday.  _ Tonight _ .

He’d scarcely been able to think of anything but the curve of Dorian’s smirk underneath his perfectly curled mustache for the rest of the day. 

The trees were broad-branched and leaf-filled, seeming to block all but the barest starlight as he stepped deeper into the copse, following small twisting papers that fluttered on strings from the branches. Snatches of poems. Strange symbols he’d noticed Dorian and Almila both using in their notes and notations. When he reached the clearing, he paused, staring at the edge of a circle of white sand, lit from within by myriad candles. The figure in its center was swathed in a midnight blue robe, cowled and murmuring quietly over a flat silver tray. 

Dorian glanced up, that self-same smirk curling his lips. “Well, come in. Mind you don’t disturb the circle.”

Anders stepped gingerly over the lines, head on a swivel, trying to take in everything, to commit it all to memory- It must have taken ages to put it all together, Dorian radiating moonglow and starlight, shrouded in shadow. “What is this?” he murmured, crossing to touch the hem of the long sleeves Dorian wore. “Some sort of ritual?”

“There’s that quicksilver mind I’m so fond of.” Dorian gleamed. “We  _ are _ teaching you the basics of your gift, are we not? This is one of the simpler ones.” He turned his hand, brushing his fingers over Anders’ wrist. “Whatever did you think you were coming out here for?”

Anders puffed out his cheeks, exhaling slowly. “Not a lesson, certainly.”

Silver eyes glittered in the candlelight. “I could have sworn you were exhausted. I distinctly recall our last interlude being interrupted by you falling asleep on me.”

“You’re very comfortable,” Anders chuckled, trying to hide his disappointment behind a smile. Dorian had gone to all this trouble for a reason and he was loath to let it go unappreciated. “Alright,” he said quietly. “What is it we’re doing, then?”

Dorian pointed up. “We’re harvesting moonlight.” He eased to his feet, collecting his cane as he moved, and nodded to a stool and a pile of silver velvet. “You’ll want to change.”

“Harvesting-“ Anders stared at him. Dorian said it as though he was recounting what he’d had for breakfast. He nodded, moving slowly towards the cloth, stripping off his jacket and vest as though in a daze. “What am I supposed to-“

The candles flared around them, dozens that had been unlit in interlocking semicircles around them sizzling to life as if of their own accord. “I’ll show you,” Dorian murmured. “It’s almost time. Leave who you’ve been behind and let the robe be the only thing between you and the sky.” 

“So the stories about witches dancing naked in the moonlight are true, then?” Anders smirked, color rising to his cheeks as he did as he was bidden, unbuttoning and unlacing and shucking his clothes, draping the silver robe around his shoulders as he folded his shirt and trousers and the rest into a tidy pile.

“We aren’t  _ witches _ ,” Dorian lifted a brow. “We’re mages. Witches are something altogether different. Powerful in their own right, often devastatingly so, but not the same.” He took Anders' hands, guiding him to the center of the circle. “And we aren’t dancing. We’re working.” He turned his palms to face the sky in the center of the tiny clearing, curving his hands into cups. “Like so.”

Even watching such simple movements were enough to set Anders’ fingers shaking. The elegance in those hands. The surety in his voice. The clever discernment of his eyes. He tried to still them, to assume the same position Dorian had, but there was a shiver in his spine that wasn’t from the cold. Gods, he wanted to kiss that smirking grin, to drag Dorian down to the earth and make love to him under the stars. 

But instead Anders listened and followed, meeting eyes fashioned from glinting silver for approval.

“A little higher.” He touched Anders’ knuckles lightly, lifting his hands out and to the sides. “You’re holding your breath. You need to exhale. Let your body root to the earth through your heels. Feel the sky like a crown touching the top of your head. You are infinite, capable of the impossible, and you bridge the space between the soil and the clouds.”

Dorian brushed his thumbs across Anders’ palms. “Feel the light touching you. Feel the spools of it unraveling from the rays of the moon and pouring into your hands. Stay with me. Focus on my eyes. Roots in the earth. Crown in the sky. One path for the light. Can you feel it?”

Focus on his eyes. Endless depths of mercury, clever and glimmering under thick, furrowed eyebrows. What a wonder it would be to taste the moonlight on his skin, to feel that deep velvet under his fingertips, and then a very different sort of velvet against his tongue as his knees dug into the ground and the chirps of evening insects were replaced with Dorian’s restrained moans in the quiet thicket, until he dripped with his own sort of starlight down Anders’ tongue-

What was magic, compared to the shift of Dorian’s eyes, the way he melted when Anders admitted he loved him, he wanted him, he enjoyed his company and his mind and his body? Andraste’s tears, his  _ body _ , sculpted by the Maker himself; He could’ve stopped proudly after he’d created his masterpiece, every line immaculate, every curve sensual, and the slant of that smile was enough to set fields ablaze-

Dorian’s lips curled into a wide, pleased smile. Teeth like pearls, reflecting a bright glow. And in the depths of his gleaming eyes, spears of silver flame licked his expanding pupils, splitting them like cats’ eyes. “I ask for thread and you give me ribbons,” Dorian chuckled, his voice smoked like the scotch he favored, pewter smoke puffing from his lips. “You always insist on doing things in your own particular way, don’t you?”

Anders followed his gaze to his hands; the cups of his palms were luminescent, filled and overflowing with silver-white transparent silk that seemed to weave itself from the air to pool and pour over his hands into a pile between their feet. His toes glowed with internal light where they peeked from beneath the silver robe, splashes of glimmering starlight catching the grass like dew. 

Dorian touched his chin, beaming, kissing him, and his lips felt like the buzz of champagne- ticklish and effervescent and ephemeral. Anders gasped as he tilted his head back and the rain of moonlight poured over him like a warm waterfall of teasing touches over his face and through his hair and down his neck; it slipped past his lips - thick as molasses, light as air, more pure than any water he’d ever tasted, coating his tongue… He gazed at the moon, drinking its light, bathing in it, and felt the ache and exhaustion in his muscles and bones melting away like ice before the sun. More ribbons. More light. 

His robe parted under Dorian’s fingers, falling away, and Anders felt warmer for its absence. Cloaked in the sheen of the full orb above them which seemed to expand and expand until it swallowed the sky. 

“Magnificent,” Dorian murmured; he was sunlight in the middle of the night- burning with raw, golden energy and the sizzle of shadows of midsummer midday. He brushed his thumbs down Anders’ thighs as he sank to his knees in the still pooling ribbons of light, dropping kisses like molten wax to Anders’ skin. “You are magnificent.”

“Dorian,” Anders whispered, staring down the line of his body to meet eyes that had become gilded, “am  _ I- _ We did this?  _ This _ ? How did-“ Gods, he felt more energized than he had in a decade, as though he could float from the earth itself if he willed it. The thought made him feel cloudy, shimmering like the light that grazed him, and he caught his breath as he felt air touch the bottoms of his feet. “This is real?”

“Yes.” Dorian held his hips, drawing him back to earth. “Heels to the soil, my love. I don’t want you to float away.”

“Float-“ Anders gasped, laughing. Gods, he  _ was _ floating; it hadn’t just been his imagination. He tried to anchor himself again, but his feet ground six inches into the dirt. “Andraste’s frilly underskirts, I can  _ fly _ . I could- I could-“ He blinked, running his glowing hands through the silk of Dorian’s hair. “Dorian, I could try to fix your  _ leg _ . I could do that for you, if you let me, I feel like I could all at once, right now, and still be able to catch the stars like lightning bugs-“

“Exhale,” Dorian smiled up at him. “Exhale and enjoy it. You needn’t do anything. Only be. You, existing here, is all the magic we need.”

“No, but I  _ could _ ,” Anders breathed out some of that light and it dissipated into mist before him. “I should take advantage of it- I should put it to use while I can, before it dissolves-“

Dorian shook his head, dropping kisses across his hip and his belly. “Not this time, Anders. This time, you drink deep and let the moon and I teach you about your wonders.”

Anders wanted to revolt, to beg him to see reason, to channel the power that was surging through his body like a lightning rod- 

But Dorian’s hands on his hips were steady and his own were shivering with energy and he knew he was right. Drunk. It would be like operating while drunk. A whimper escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and felt every hair Dorian touched energize, every inch of skin moving against his as though in slow motion. “Alright, love,” Anders whispered, cupping his cheek. “Teach me.”

“Send your heels into the earth like roots. Send your hair into the sky like branches. Hold onto me.” Dorian kissed the inside of his wrist. “Hold on to me,  _ be _ , and remember to breathe.” 

There was a moment where the light and the dark seemed to crystallize around them, fragmenting into a million shattering pieces, then all of the edges seamed together again as Anders felt Dorian’s lips close over him. Hot as a baking oven, but painless. The opposite of painless. Heat and light roaring up through him, warming his veins, weighting him back to the earth. The ribbons pooled over his hands and his shoulders, tender slips of dreams that promised infinity and impossibility. And Dorian drank from him as Anders drank from the moon, holding him steady as he summoned the light down through him-

Energy pooled in his belly, sizzling under his skin. He wasn’t certain if his eyes were open or closed; light seemed to move and flow around him like water regardless. He could feel the grass beneath his feet, but that might have been memory as much as fact, or perhaps he was floating and the ground was simply rising to meet him. 

He was awake. He was alive. Perhaps more alive than he’d ever been. Or was he always like this, and only more aware of his own vitality? He received the air like a gift, each breath a decadent sip, and his lover feasted on him - light and limb - as though he were ambrosia until the wash of soft silverwhite turned violet and green and marigold, altering the flames of the dim flickering candles in their midst. 

“Is it-“ Anders struggled to form words, thoughts sifting from his mind like sand through his fingertips. He leaned his head back to drink in more light, to drown in it, feeling his feet lift from the earth only to be brought back down again with a flicker of will. “Always? Is it always like this?”

Dorian nuzzled the inside of his thigh, smiling drunkenly up at him, gleaming moonlight in his eyes and sunlight in his skin. “It can be,” he licked the words across Anders’ skin. “The moon is full of power; it can be harvested in a number of ways.”

“You’re so beautiful I could weep,” Anders exhaled, grinning down at him, the candlelight shifting to amethyst around them, the reflection catching in Dorian’s eyes and turning silver. “You’ve always known about this? How you could- Maker, that  _ I _ could-“

“I didn’t know what you could or would until I watched you channel it,” Dorian drew him back to the ground again. “We all have our unique gifts.”

“And what are yours, Dorian?” Anders asked breathlessly, “I want to discover what you can do as well.”

“Greedy,” Dorian chuckled, nipping at the inside of his knee. “Come back down here and I’ll show you.”

Anders hummed, sparkling stars on his breath, pouring over him like a wave, beaming as he kissed along the line of his neck, curling up against him like a cat. “Close enough?”

“Never.” Dorian splayed his hand on Anders’ belly, tangling with him in the grass. “Nothing is close enough.” He pressed gentle, slow, raindrop kisses down the side of Anders’ face, slipping his fingers between his legs. “But we can try to rectify that.”

“Hnn-“ Anders closed his eyes, but could still see the outlines of everything in gilded starlight, shining through his eyelids like a summer sun. Could see Dorian’s smirk, felt the edges of his lips with his fingertips just to be certain- “Rectify,” he murmured, his hips rolling almost of their own accord. “Yes. Please, Dorian, if you can-“

Sunbursts and clear-sky showers pet and pressed as slow-melt kisses rained across his fingers and down his neck. The sky was unending resplendent, dripping over him, lapping at his lips and his skin and his entrance with the buzz of dragonfly wings. “Breathe,” Dorian reminded him gently, delving, drawing the moon into him with the flex of his fingers until Anders thought that he might burst from being overfilled. Light and power and life and love and warmth blended in his belly, softening his muscles and melting him against Dorian’s body. “Is this what you want?” the smoke curled, cardamom and coriander spiced, across his lips. 

“You,” Anders exhaled in a shower of sparks. “You, yes, I want you. I  _ have _ wanted you. I can think of little else-“ He reached to kiss him, desperate to let loose some of that swirling energy. “It’s so beautiful, Dorian-“

“You are,” Dorian kissed the corner of his mouth, lapping spilling moonlight from his lips as he pressed his melting sunrise fingers deeper. “You are magnificent. You are life, itself.”

“Is your secret power flattery, my lord?” Anders batted his eyelashes, prisms in his periphery, champagne bubbles popping as he laughed. “That seems rather mundane; I must say I’m disappointed.”

“Your eyes shine like amber,” Dorian nipped at his chin. “Your skin is velvet cream. I could drink from you for years and never would my thirst be slaked.” His voice shuffled syrupy, intoxicating mists across Anders’ tongue. “I adore you. I adore your laugh and the spin of your mind and the blossoming expanse of your heart. And when I’m inside you, I’m ecstatic, and also grieve that I will at some point have to leave you.”

“Mm, seems it’s flattery, then,” Anders grinned, catching his lips and sending sparks along Dorian’s skin where they touched. “ _ Oh- _ “ His back arched and he drove himself against Dorian’s fingers, electricity charging his skin, the static sending shockwaves through him, making every hair raise on their ends. “You don’t need to leave for long, you know. You could-“ Another set of sparks spilled from his fingertips, shivers running through the length of his body. “Oh, Dorian- Is it supposed to  _ feel _ like this?”

“The flattery?” Dorian smirked against his cheek. “I hope so. Are you enjoying it?”

“Am I-“ Anders breathed, closing his eyes to trace that slanted smile with the tip of his tongue. “I didn’t know I could  _ do _ this. I didn’t know-“ Grass cool against his back, every blade stark against his skin, bare under the sky. “I adore you, too. You know that, yes?”

“Mmhmm,” Dorian kissed his cheek. “You express it very fluently.” His fingers were curls of power and light, summoning the tart of fresh orange peels and shredded spices to his tongue. Heat buzzed up his spine and out through his fingertips, showering sparks. “You are capable of so much more than you know.”

“And you do?” Anders whispered, gaze focusing on him, able to distinguish every feathered line in his eyes, every eyelash, every faint pore on his cheeks. “You can see what I cannot?”

“Only insofar as I have studied this craft since I was in swaddling clothes.” Dorian met his gaze, unflinching and steady. His pupils were blown with admiration and power and pleasure, the barest argent slivers around the rims. “You’ll learn.”

“I’d prefer it,” Anders chuckled, tugging Dorian’s forehead to his, “if all of our lessons ended like this. Do you think that could be arranged?”

“Like this?” Dorian kissed him, sizzling. “Or like this?” He flexed his fingers. “Or like this?” he glanced at the lights surrounding them. 

“I would take two of three,” Anders hummed, tasting himself and the crackle of energy on Dorian’s tongue. “And leave the specifics entirely up to you.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He leaned up on one elbow, a living sunrise, daybreak thrumming from his fingertips to fill Anders with melting warmth. “Do try the threads,” Dorian murmured, kissing down his neck to his chest. “If only to play, hm?”

“Alright. I’ll try,” Anders murmured, but he was finding it difficult to stem the tide, to focus on shaping the power into something so fine that it could be plucked when it wanted to flood from him, brimming from his skin like a waterfall. It fought him, the surging energy, stretching and tugging against the bounds he tried to set and Dorian’s lips and fingertips made him want to lose himself to the magic even further, to dissolve into sensation and melt into the ground below. 

“That’s more of a sheet, my love,” Dorian murmured, licking a path down his belly. “Thinner, not wider.”

“I’m  _ trying _ ,” Anders protested, closing his eyes and attempting to wrap the light back on itself. “You’re very distracting, you realize?”

He could  _ feel  _ the smirking shift of Dorian’s lips and mustache against his skin as he trailed lower, exhaling lazy summer breezes. “Mmhmm.”

“That’s the point?” Anders leaned up on his elbows to peer at him. “Being distracting?”

“That’s the fun part for me,” Dorian dipped his tongue, grinning indecently. “Are you complaining?”

“No, I’m not-“ Anders sniffed, blowing a plume of silver smoke from his nose on the exhale. “Don’t stop. I’ll keep-“ A tiny flicker tickled his cheek but by the time Anders turned his head to glance at it, the slender thread had expanded into a fat, silky ribbon again. “Blast.”

“You have to use your entire will,” Dorian whispered, hot breath and petal lips and summer morning tongue doing terrible, wonderful things. “Create a sieve and let the light flow through it.”

“Sieve,” Anders repeated, shivering under his touch, trying to imagine it, but unable to conceptualize anything other than the wet warmth of Dorian’s mouth, the twitching of his fingers. “Maker’s  _ beard _ , Dorian-” Will.  _ Will _ ? How was he supposed to exhibit any semblance of will when- Anders gritted his teeth together, trying not to cry out. Sieve. He tried to catch the light and weave it into some sort of mesh, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as Dorian tasted him.

“If you like.” Dorian nudged his thighs farther apart, “A scraggly beard, long and stringy.”

“ _ Ugh _ , no-” Anders twitched, trying to hold the strands together and allow the light of the moon to flow through like raindrops on his tongue. “You’re beautiful as you are and I’d not have you change.”

“The  _ strands _ , love,” Dorian chuckled. The laughter was like perlage rising through him, giddy and gleaming. “Thinner.” He pressed his palm to Anders’ belly, licking up the line of his shaft. “Threads. Droplets. Lace.”

“Call me ‘love’ again,” Anders begged, peering down at him with a grin. “I love how that word sounds on your lips.”

Silver shone. Lips beneath that curled mustache spread in a melting smile. “I love how it feels rolling off my tongue,” Dorian kissed his hip, watching him. “I love how it feels to love you, my love.”

His words were a balm that nearly soothed the sting of his inability to weave the magic as Dorian wished. Anders tightened his jaw, eyes crossing as he tried to tighten ropes into lace- He sighed, grimacing, as the entire construction fell to pieces. “I don’t know how to control it, Dorian,” Anders whispered, touching his cheek with a frown. “I don’t know how to make it listen. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry.” Dorian climbed up to kiss his chin. “Don’t be sorry, love. Be. You don’t need to understand it yet. I was only curious if you could, since you took to the transmutation so naturally. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Dorian,” Anders nuzzled against his cheek, kissing him gently. “It’s alright. Maybe- After. I want you now. I love you and I want you.”

“You do.” He grinned, stroking his hands up Anders’ sides. “You’re moonlight and you want me.” He rolled to his back, drawing Anders over him. “Have me. I’m yours.”

“No, Dorian, you are  _ yours _ .” Anders smiled, relieved at the permission to focus his attention on one matter, instead of dividing it in twain. His hand climbed up the ladder of Dorian’s ribs to cup his cheek, kneeling on top of him, straddled in the grass under a sea of stars. “You are Dorian Pavus, Earl of Drakonis-on-Sea, heir to Qarinus and Landsbridge and all that other drivel.” He ran his fingers through Dorian’s moonlit hair, kissing everything he could touch. “You are the husband to the most lovely woman in all of England, who dotes on you like you deserve. You are the father of a brilliant, beautiful boy who will grow up to be better than any of us, because of your love and that of his mother’s. You are a master of the arcane wonders, an engineer and scholar without equal. You are an unparalleled wit and an indecently delightful lover. You live and breathe in this world, spectacularly I might add, and because of that fact alone you are worthy of adoration and love, respect and dignity. I would take your wounded heart and fill it over until you’ve love cascading from your earlobes, until you come to the realization that you deserve to discover what it means to be happy and carve out a life where you can be just that.”

Dorian stared up at him. “Where… did that come from?”

“Huh?” Anders blushed, scrubbing a hand across his stubble. “Oh. Sometimes- I get a bit carried away.” He shuffled off of Dorian, laying in the grass, arm over his face. “Gods, I’m sorry.”

“What? Why are you sorry? Stop being sorry.” Dorian followed him, leaning over him. “You really love me.”

“What kind of person would lie about something like that?” Anders slid his arm down slightly so that he could meet Dorian’s eyes, his skin burning. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“Not lie- I didn’t think you were- I only-” Dorian peered down at him, wonderstruck and quizzical. “Embellish. I thought perhaps you might be embellishing.” His lips trembled with a strangely hesitant smile. “You gave me a speech.”

“Ah. I- Yes.” Anders smiled sheepishly, wrinkling his nose. “I mean what I say, though. I wouldn’t make such a fuss otherwise.”   
“You make a fuss?” Dorian rested his forehead to Anders’, beaming. “Over me? What sort of fuss do you make? Where is it? Can I see?”

“What are you talking about?” Anders pressed his lips together, his cheeks almost certainly crimson. “I’ve completely destroyed the ambiance, haven’t I?”

“Tell me again about making love cascade out of my earlobes.” Dorian nipped at his cheek, giddy. “Hold me and make a fuss. I’ll spin you in moonlight threads like a spool.”

“I thought you knew how I felt,” Anders whispered, touching his nose and following the line down cto his lips. “Didn’t you?” 

“I knew you cared for me. I had no doubt that you  _ wanted  _ me; I am decadently handsome, after all. And I knew you adored Almila. I-” He grinned, glowing, “-suppose I didn’t want to question it further. My  _ earlobes _ . You glorious man.”

“Like you filled me with moonlight,” Anders murmured against his skin, resting his cheek against Dorian’s chest to watch him, effervescent. “I’ll fill an ocean for you that you can soak in until my love for you permeates your pores, until you’ve started to wrinkle from affection and overindulgence. And I’d love you still, even when your perfect skin sprouts lines at the corners of your eyes and lips from laughter, and your hair turns gray from long years, and your fingers aren’t so wonderfully dextrous as they are today. There is something unquestionably good in you; I know it, I’ve sensed it, I’ve seen it in Almila and Julius’ eyes,  _ Justice _ can feel it- How could I not love you, even not having unraveled all of the parts of yourself you keep hidden?”

“Ah,” Dorian tilted his head to the side. “So it’s my  _ goodness  _ you’re fond of.”

“Among other things,” Anders frowned, glancing around the circle, the candles still flickering gently in the breeze. “Now you’re making fun.”

“Not at all. I’m  _ delighted _ . I’ve hummingbirds all aflutter in my veins.” He kissed Anders’ cheek. “I’m not enthused that you think about me growing wrinkles, Maker forbid, but I am positively thrumming that you’ve an inclination to tarry long enough to spot them.”

“I’m already old,” Anders chuckled helplessly, relieved and breathless. “I’ve become preoccupied with my own wrinkles these past few years and I like to inflict my agony upon others to ease my own suffering with company.”

“You aren’t old,” Dorian rolled his eyes. “You’re exquisite.”

“And I’m getting wrinkles and my hair is starting to lose its color.”

“Your hair is gilded sunlight on a winter day when the clouds have just parted.” Dorian nipped at his lower lip. “And I have yet to spot any of the w-word. Should I look more thoroughly?”

“You needn’t,” Anders groaned, closing his eyes. “I already know where they are.”

“Anders.” Dorian chuckled, pressing kisses to his chin and across his jaw, “Tell me your very wonderful words again and make love to me before I get some of my own.”

“I love you,” Anders nudged him with his nose, still blushing. “It’s beautiful here.” He slipped between Dorian’s legs, kissing the side of his knee. “I feel like I mean something in your home, that I matter.” 

“You do,” Dorian touched the side of his face gently. “You do. Both of those things. And not only to us. You’re- you. You’re wondrous. You don’t need us. We need you.”

“I like being needed,” Anders whispered, gazing up at Dorian, at the shadows dancing in his eyes. “I love being loved. It makes all manner of things seem possible.”

“You only just made ribbons from the moon. All manner of things are possible, love.” He threaded his fingers through Anders’ hair. “We’ll teach you. With the rewards for your lessons as you’ve specified.”


End file.
